Chapter 11 - THE MAN WHO FORGOT HIS OWN NAME| The rural medical center sat beyond a stretch of farmland in Connecticut, its white buildings surrounded by bare trees and a high security fence.
The director confirmed that a patient named Daniel Ross had been admitted three years earlier after recovering from severe injuries. He had experienced partial memory loss and spent months in physical rehabilitation.
"He's still here?" Aleandro asked.
The director hesitated.
"He was transferred six weeks ago."
"To where?"
"I can't disclose private medical information without proper authorization."
Aleandro placed the court order on the desk.
The director read it, then called an assistant.
Within minutes, a second file arrived.
The patient had been moved to a rehabilitation facility in Vermont under a confidential care agreement. The transfer had been requested by a company linked to Adrian Cross.
Sophia felt her heart pounding.
"Did he remember his family?"
The director glanced at the notes.
"Sometimes he remembered fragments. A song. A childhood home. A little girl who used to dance in the kitchen."
Sophia covered her mouth.
"Emma."
The director nodded slowly.
"That name appears in the records."
Aleandro leaned forward.
"Was he prevented from contacting us?"
The director looked uncomfortable.
"The original instructions stated that visits were not permitted until a family dispute had been resolved."
"What dispute?"
"I wasn't given details."
Aleandro's jaw tightened, but he restrained himself.
"Give us the address of the Vermont facility. We'll follow the legal process."
The director complied.
They arrived the following afternoon.
A nurse named Patricia met them in a quiet consultation room. She explained that the patient had recently begun recovering more memories, though he remained uncertain about his identity.
"He often asks about a woman named Sophia," Patricia said. "He remembers her singing. He also asks about a child with a rabbit."
Sophia began to cry.
"Can I see him?"
Patricia nodded.
They led her down a bright corridor into a small garden room.
A man sat beside the window, turning a wooden music box in his hands. He was thinner than Sophia remembered, with a pale scar near his temple and silver beginning to show at his hairline.
For several seconds, she could not speak.
Then she whispered, "Leo."
The man slowly turned.
His eyes searched her face.
"I know that voice."
Sophia stepped closer.
"It's me."
He stared at her, frightened and uncertain.
"Do I know you?"
The question broke her heart.
"Yes," she whispered. "You do."
She began humming their melody.
The man closed his eyes.
His fingers tightened around the music box.
Then, slowly, he joined her.
When the final note faded, he looked at her again.
"Sophia?"
She nodded, tears falling.
He stood unsteadily.
"I left you."
"You disappeared."
"I remember a fire. Someone told me you had died."
Sophia shook her head.
"I never stopped looking for you."
Nico pressed a hand against his forehead.
Then he looked past her toward Aleandro.
"Why are you here?"
Aleandro approached carefully.
"Nico. It's me."
His brother stared at him.
For a moment, recognition flickered.
Then Nico stepped backward.
"No."
Aleandro stopped.
May you like
Nico's voice trembled.
"You were supposed to be dead."
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